


Give Me Love

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 04:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17053466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: This is their third anniversary, no take backs





	Give Me Love

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 fic
> 
> very first chansoo, ayo

Chanyeol knows he's pushing it, but there's something about the plushness of Kyungsoo's pursed lips, the heavy darkness of his furrowed eyebrows, the way his jaw clenches and clicks as he swallows.

He's hot when he's mad. When he's flustered. When's he's just slightly embarrassed because _we're in public, Chanyeol, please_.

And there's something heady, endearing in it, too. Because Kyungsoo's expression is sour, unamused, but his smile—tense and begrudging—is still genuine. His hand—his warm, perfect, beautiful hand—is still threaded tightly with his own as he's dragged through the zoo gates.

 

It's their third anniversary.

“Three years, no take backs,” Chanyeol says as Kyungsoo blinks down at the all day stamp smearing at his wrist. He grins even as Kyungsoo’s nail digs into his thumb in retaliation with another grimace. Because Chanyeol is at the fucking zoo with the love of his life, and everything—everything is perfect in this moment. So he continues to laugh loudly, steps animated. And Kyungsoo scurries behind him, making small displeased sounds even as he follows.

“It’s hot,” Kyungsoo notes.

Chanyeol tsks, slows down at Kyungsoo’s prompting, but doesn’t relent, continues towards the petting zoo. “It’s my year,” he reminds him. “ _I_ decide. Last year, we did that pottery coloring thing and went to that poetry reading. I thought it was going to be boring, but we went because it was _your_ turn to decide. Now it’s _my_ turn.”

And Chanyeol flushes briefly as he recalls the way Kyungsoo had set down their bags afterwards, all careful and considerate, before pressing him facedown into their sofa cushions. Fucking him hard and fast as Chanyeol bit down on the material, tears of pleasure, tears of emotionality, tears of love streaming down his flushed cheeks. That had been a good anniversary.

“You liked it,” Kyungsoo counters, deadpans, meeting his eyes, eyebrow raised in challenge.

And Chanyeol had come so hard he'd almost blacked out, still touches himself to the memory of Kyungsoo's teeth at his shoulder, the rough unforgiving scrape of upholstery against his skin.

“And you’ll like this,” Chanyeol promises, extra loud and a little more breathy and affected than he means to let on.

 

But Kyungsoo doesn't. Not really.

He tolerates though. Indulges. Yields.

Long-suffering but accepting and loving, Chanyeol thinks. He loves me.

He’s not always good at expressing it. Not with words. Not even with actions at times. But he _does_ , Chanyeol knows. He really, really does. And he's one of the kindest, softest people Chanyeol's ever met.

And Chanyeol _sees_ it. In the quiet, steady way he holds Chanyeol’s hand. In the small smile he offers even as he rejects Chanyeol’s idea of giraffe couple visor. (He wears the fanny pack, though. The one with the lion on the front). In the way he rifles in that fanny pack for quarters as Chanyeol whines about needing more feeding pellets. In the slow, quiet way he reaches forward with hesitant fingers to trace along a billy goat’s chin, cajoling it closer. In the way he presses his face to the black bars separating him from the animal, releasing the occasional oooh as Chanyeol gasps, speaks, _moves_ loudly. So excited about the giraffes, the lions, the parrots, the koalas, the polar bears, the gorillas _Kyungsoo, look at the fucking gorillas_. And when they sit on the benches, across from one another, when Kyungsoo thumbs at the ketchup on the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth, interrupting him mid chicken nugget fight—his giraffe shaped ones are staging a rebellion against the lions—to wipe at his face, smooth back his long black bangs. Even if he follows it with light smack to his cheek, a biting comment about Chanyeol’s childishness. Chanyeol sees it. Chanyeol feels it.

He loves me, Chanyeol thinks, _knows_. He loves me, and he’s perfect for me.

“I love you,” Chanyeol tells him as Kyungsoo’s hand slides down his cheek, palm pressing warm and soft against his jawline.

Kyungsoo’s face melts into a smile. “I love you, too,” he says. And Chanyeol _knows_ , but the quiet, soft way in which he says it, syllables slightly slurred as he takes a sip of his lemonade have Chanyeol’s body flushing with a pleasant heat. “No takes backs,” he whispers against his straw.

“I just have one more animal to show you,” Chanyeol tells him.

Kyungsoo nods.

 

Kyungsoo’s hand is warm in his, fingers playing idly with his palm as Chanyeol pauses at the prairie voile exhibit.

Kyungsoo leans further forward, drags his fingers against the embossed words as he reads. “Why did you—?”

“I—ah—I googled them. Because they’re cute. And they, they mate for life, you know,” he starts dumbly. “They form pair bonds, they—um—they pick their mate—and they support each other and love each other and it’s for _life_.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes are heavy on his face. Chanyeol squirms, as he continues, stammers. His neck feels hot so he runs his hand over it, squeezing as he curls forward.

“And I I know we already have couple rings and a shared apartment and Netflix account, but—ah—we can also—I guess I want you to know that for me, it's—I want you for _life_. You’re—you’re—”

Kyungsoo blinks, watches him intently, and Chanyeol barrels on with false bravado.

“I—I think the goats are cute, and I like watching the monkeys and acting out scenarios with the chicken nuggets. But this—this is what I wanted you to take away from this. This is what I wanted you to—notice. I mean, I _know_ it's a kid thing, but the way I feel about you _isn't_.”

Kyungsoo squeezes his hand, suddenly curls his other hand around Chanyeol’s neck, forcing him to bend forward so he can kiss the corner of his mouth. And Chanyeol shivers from the chaste affection of it because Kyungsoo never kisses in public.

Chanyeol skips back to the car, dragging a quiet contemplative Kyungsoo along.

 

“This is a two-parter,” he declares airily once they’re in the car. Chanyeol driver, Kyungsoo passenger, toying with his seatbelt. And Kyungsoo snaps out of whatever solemn daze he's been in with an slow blink, an easy shift of his shoulders.

“The aquarium?” he asks. “An amusement park? The ballpit at McDonald's? Maybe lazer tag?”

Chanyeol crinkles his nose, affronted. “Kyungsoo, _please_.”

The drive in relative silence. Chanyeol humming softly along to the Top 40’s songs on the radio as Kyungsoo keeps time with his fingers against the dashboard.

He turns to regard his warily as they turn into the parking lot of an old college bar.

Chanyeol rests his palm against the steering wheel, and he can feel Kyungsoo’s eyes on him—too heavy, too large, too beautiful—as he motions toward the building. Murmurs a petulant “See, an _adult_ date.” Kyungsoo snorts.

“I don’t know if you even remember,” he starts.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, murmurs a soft “I do.”

Chanyeol’s eye skitter briefly to Kyungsoo’s face. The softness of it in early twilight. He’s overcome with a sudden sense of distressing sentimentality as he swallows hard.

“But this—this is this is where I first saw you and I tried to come up to talk to you and—”

Chanyeol had been 3 years younger, but just as eager. Even clumsier and maybe more than a little bit drunk. Bold, overconfident, and sloppy.

“I told you you were _beautiful_ , the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

Kyungsoo smiles, bemused.

“Like an angel,” he says, deepening his voice in imitation. “Giant eyes like an _angel_. Soft lips like an _angel_. Black hair like an _angel_.”

Chanyeol tightens his fingers, face heating as he remembers the large gestures, emphatic hand motions, too loud voice. Painfully self conscious at the memory of it, at the cheesiness of this, too.

“And I spilled my drink on you as I was asking for your name, and I kept apologizing because your shirt and your shoes. And you made this face. This annoyed face—”

“You _cried_.”

“And you felt bad, so you sat with me and tapped your fingers against the bar as this local band played. And it was really…”

Kyungsoo nods though he doesn't finish the sentence.

“ _Yes_.”

“I fell in love with you that night you know. A little bit. I—ah—I knew I wanted you to be something in my life."

Chanyeol looks down as he continues.

“And um we had our first and second date here, too. And the third time, I couldn't really breathe because you kept touching me. Like my wrists and my arms and my cheeks. And that band was playing again, and I—ah—I asked you to be my boyfriend. Because _fuck_ the way you looked in those dim lights. You were so—I hadn’t even know then, about how _beautiful_ you were. But I just wanted you so badly—and you said _yes_ , and you kissed me and then you you—”

Kyungsoo leans forward to kiss him with a soft hum, and Chanyeol melts into it, chasing his mouth when the younger pulls away.

“Let's go inside,” he says.

Chanyeol nods dumbly.

 

Kyungsoo positions himself as he had that night. Stretching out his legs, entwining their fingers, and baring his neck as the first chord thrums across the bar. And Chanyeol feels that familiar punch of desire, that well-known ache. Even though he knows what Kyungsoo’s moans taste like, what his skin feels like trembling and gliding over his own.

Chanyeol wants to kiss him breathless, needy, desperate, like he had that night. Three years some odd days ago. Wants to unravel him. Be _needed_ in turn.

But he settles for tightening his thumb around Kyungsoo’s wrist, tracing over his pulse point with slow, reverent swipes.

Kyungsoo smiles around his bottle of import beer, moisture collecting on the top of his lip.

“If I let you take me home,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. “Would you think I'm this easy for all the boys?”

(His line verbatim)

“No,” Chanyeol repeats. “ _Fuck_ no.”

(And they’d made out on Kyungsoo’s squeaky box spring that night. Collecting each other’s moans, exploring each other’s bodies. Chanyeol had ground against Kyungsoo’s thigh until he’d come, embarrassingly fast, and Kyungsoo had bitten down on his neck as Chanyeol had cupped him through denim, through cotton, stroking him to completion, too. He’d fallen a little bit more in love with him when he’d heard that soft, raspy sigh of a moan as Kyungsoo had climaxed against Chanyeol’s navel)

“Take me home, then,” Kyungsoo says. And then deviating from script, leaning forward to nose at his jawline. “I want to fuck you so bad, Chanyeol.”

 

“You're so sexy when you try, you know,” Kyungsoo murmurs hotly, words thick and affectionate against Chanyeol’s throat. And Chanyeol moans as Kyungsoo nuzzles into his chest, drags his chin along his nipple. “When you do sweet thoughtful shit for me. When you're adorable and _public_ about your feelings.” His nails scrape at Chanyeol’s sides through the thin fabric of his shirt. “When you’re fucking _you_. You're so fucking sexy when you do that, Chanyeol, I fucking swear.”

And then he's sinking to his knees.

He drags the zipper down his his teeth, slides his hands under denim to tug his jeans down slowly, almost reverently he paints along his belly button with slow kittenish licks, noses at the growing tent in his boxers. His hand—suddenly hard, unforgiving—anchors him to the wall as he hums against his skin. Chanyeol tugs at his own shirt to give him more skin to work with, and Kyungsoo murmurs in approval as he mouth along the slight definition of abs.

“Is this for me?” he breathes, free hand sliding down to graze Chanyeol’s cock. Chanyeol gasps, tries to buck up toward it, but is held back by the bruising grip of Kyungsoo’s hand.

“ _Yes_ , Kyungsoo—just, just—please—”

Kyungsoo's gratitude blowjobs are always a heady punch. Extra slow, extra indulgent, extra devastating. Kyungsoo’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, the wet, perfect warmth of it as Kyungsoo teases his lips—so soft and slick and swollen—over Chanyeol’s cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, head lolling forward with a soft moan, and Kyungsoo hums in acknowledgment, lips curling into a half smile, kissing succulent along just the head. His hot tongue traces teasingly. Chanyeol writhes forward.

And the smooth glide of his mouth, the sinful drag of his lips has Chanyeol pitching forward, fingers raking through Kyungsoo’s dark hair.

Chanyeol is stronger, bigger, over eager, but Kyungsoo forces him down. Forces him to _feel_.

“Fuck, _please_.”

Kyungsoo quickens his pace, and Chanyeol groans, eyelashes fluttering as he sees where Kyungsoo’s reaching down to tease himself, palming through his pants. He jerks suddenly, and Kyungsoo releases this quiet little moan because he likes this, too. Likes sucking him off.

His lips look so pretty and perfect and pink. And Chanyeol just, Chanyeol just—

“Please, fuck—fucking _please_.”

Kyungsoo disengages with a slick pop, a string of saliva still linking him to Chanyeol cock. He licks neatly once as he blinks up at him, lips swollen, eyebrows furrowed, eyes burning. He noses at the seam of his thigh, hair tickling as he nuzzles. Chanyeol trembles.

“Go get lube and a condom,” he orders with a hard smack to Chanyeol’s thigh, and the older moans at the rush of pleasure, rush of heat as he scrambles to comply.

 

Kyungsoo’s fingers are smaller than his own, thinner. But it’s the most exquisite sort of torture as he slicks them up, presses them inside, working them with long presses forward, dragging deliberately along his trembling walls. Chanyeol’s bare back scrapes against the wallpaper as he arches, fucks himself down, urging Kyungsoo harder and faster. But Kyungsoo doesn’t relent. Spreads his fingers open slowly, stroking along trembling flesh, thorough and methodical as Chanyeol gasps, whimpers.

“Please— _please_ ”

Kyungsoo’s free hand grips his hip as Chanyeol sags towards the pressure and pleasure of it.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Chanyeol,” he rasps. “Even when even, when it was just the zoo,” he says, the thrust of his fingers quickening. Chanyeol sobs. “Even when it was just the fucking prairie voiles. I wanted to kiss you at the petting zoo. With the fucking goats and the way you bent down to press your nose to theirs, the way you're so so fucking—”

Kyungsoo sighs, curls his fingers, pressing hard on his prostate as he thinks, and Chanyeol whimpers, entire body bucking forward.

“Kyungsoo,” he pleads. “Baby— _baby_.”

“And the way you’re so _eager_ for this. Squeezing my fingers, _begging_ for it. You’re so fucking—”

“ _Please_.”

“Tell me—tell me what you want.”

Because he likes the way that Chanyeol gasps for it, voice thick and husky as he fucking _begs_. So eager, he’d said. So fucking _desperate_ for me.

“ _Fuck_ me. _Fuck_ me, Kyungsoo, _please_.”

 

Kyungsoo drags him down to the floor, and Chanyeol falls back with a soft whimper, dragging him forward. His legs fall easily around Kyungsoo’s waist, hands wrapping tight around Kyungsoo’s shoulders to anchor himself as Kyungsoo sinks in.

He's unforgiving. Fast. Hard. Through. Just exactly—just exactly—

The carpet scrapes against his back, and his lip stings as he bites back his moans, drinks in the dark promise of Kyungsoo’s eyes, the soft breathy, hitching sounds falling from his ruddy lips.

“So tight,” he says. “So good for me. _Mine_.”

Chanyeol whimpers, and Kyungsoo head crashes forward, mouth open, warm against his collarbone.

And Chanyeol can't do much but press back toward every thrust, scrape his fingernails across Kyungsoo’s sweaty shoulder blades at every particularly delicious fuck forward, clench tight to provoke breathier moans, huskier praises.

Kyungsoo snaps forward even harder, reaches down to grip him, clumsy but tight. And Chanyeol's entire body arches as he sobs openly, the sound tearing itself out of his throat before he can stop it.

He’s pure sensation, pure need. And the change in angle sends a sudden rush of exquisite pleasure, and Kyungsoo is in complete control. Unraveling him deliberate and hard and fast.

“Kyungsoo,” he manages, voice broken, distressed, body taut. “ _Please_.”

“Come,” Kyungsoo urges, dragging his thumb along the underside. “ _Come_.”

Chanyeol drags him forward into a sloppy kiss, pressing his lips tight, and it’s one, two strokes before he does. Trembling, sobbing, splattering across his navel as Kyungsoo cradles him tighter, whispering his name over and over again as his cock continues to drag hot and insistent inside of him. And Chanyeol can feel it, even through the throes of it, when Kyungsoo comes. Body going rigid, moan damp and hot against Chanyeol’s neck. “Chanyeol,” he chants. “My Chanyeol.” And Chanyeol’s arms, his thighs twine even harder, holding him close.

Kyungsoo presses his forehead presses to Chanyeol’s throat as his breathing slows, and he releases this puff of a laugh as he laps at the dip of his collarbone. Chanyeol’s hands shift to drag over the sweaty tendrils of hair plastered to his forehead, thumbing at them affectionately.

And Kyungsoo whispers out a reverent “I love you” against his jawline, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his eyelids.


End file.
